


The Mask

by Whittakerjodie



Series: 13th Doctor X Reader [15]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005), Doctor Who (TV Movie 1996)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Trying to do my best to be gender neutral with the reader!, Two doctors being funny and in love with you, masquerade stuff, quips at 2020, quips at the 10th doctor for .. OKAY JUST READ IT ITS FUNNY, quips at the 8th doctor being a horny bastard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:08:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27512845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whittakerjodie/pseuds/Whittakerjodie
Summary: It’s your turn to choose the adventure and, without another idea, you choose a masquerade ball. When you find yourself separated from the Doctor, you run into a mysterious and charismatic man who goes by the same name as your traveling partner...
Relationships: Eighth Doctor/Reader, The Doctor (Doctor Who)/Reader, Thirteenth Doctor/Reader
Series: 13th Doctor X Reader [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1613002
Kudos: 31





	The Mask

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for not writing anything in a while, I'm in my first semester at college doing a lot fo credits plus it's been crazy at work! I am trying to finish the semester strong so I think that there will be another pause but I will do my best!

“Good?” You whispered. The Doctor nodded, letting her hands fall from the sides of your face. The mask, which you had picked out from the TARDIS’ infinite dressing room, now rested neatly against your face, adding a bit of flair to the rest of your elaborate outfit. It was your turn to pick out where and when you went in the space-time machine. Having run out of ideas, your mind flashed back to the most recent movie you’d seen and in the end you proposed attending a masquerade ball. Purely for the aesthetics, you told yourself, although there was certainly some unconscious desires at play-

“How’s mine?” Your favorite time lord asked, having finished slipping on her mask. You gasped; clearly she’d had it for a long time. This was made evident by the gold intricately placed in complex circles against a black frame, the texture of which was dulled and beginning to fray from use and age. It fit nicely with her old fashioned suit, which was fashioned out of the same dark material, fitting her body awkwardly. Clearly she’d borrowed it from a past self. Her eyes, visible under the mask, seemed to have aged centuries from the second the mask had come into contact with her face to match it.

“It looks great” You said, certifying the outfits status. The Doctor grinned and held out a hand for you. You accepted it, enjoying the way her fingers curled around yours, transferring her warmth through your body. Her excitement, too, must’ve passed through your skin-level bond, because you could feel your heart racing as she led you out the doors towards the ball.

Within an instant, you were transported from the TARDIS’ interior dimension into a world filled with glitter and gold. It came in second place compared to the air of the room itself, which was occupied by the vibrations of the most glorious music you’d ever heard. People were everywhere, occupying every inch of the dance floor and beyond, blurring into a sea of movement. The Doctor squeezed your hand, and you threw yourself into the waves.

After about a half hour, you were about done with the dancing mess. At least for a time. Your clothes were beginning to stick to your body, your body's natural cooling function turning into a frustrating adhesive. Not to mention your feet were starting to ache, begging you to take it easy for a time. The Doctor, being an immortal ball of energy, was still enthusiastically throwing herself around the dance floor, forgoing any rhythm that she might’ve been recommended to meet. You flashed her a smile before turning to the snack table, fancying a drink. Reaching for the punch bowl, your movements were interrupted by the startling cough that started next to you.

You took a step back, concerned building for the man who was leaned against the wall, doubled over.

“Are you alright?” you asked, trying to remember everything you knew about preventing choking. Just as your hands moved towards the man, however, he straightened up with ease, all tension gone from his face. The only sign that anything was amiss were his eyebrows, which started to furrow.

“There was alcohol in my drink.” He said, as if offended. You chuckled. “Laying off, Hm?” Still, you avoided the punch bowl that he was glancing warily at and stepped in front of the next one.

“Don’t drink from that one either,” He recommended.

“... Why not?” You asked, confused and slightly irritated. “Not enough sugar. No fun.” You laughed. “Not enough sugar? What kind of a picker eater- drinker, I should say, are you?”

“I’m not picky,” The man whined. His eyes drifted from yours to the accessory surrounding them. “Where did you get that mask?”

From the softness of his words you instinctively raised your hand, fingertips brushing against the piece. “A… friend got it for me. Do you like it?”

“It looks familiar” He said, with a curious gaze.

“Does that mean you like it?” You whispered again. With his face so close, inspecting your mask, you needn’t speak too loudly. Face heating up, you cleared your throat. “Where’s yours?”

“My what?”

“Your mask. It is a masquerade ball” He paused and blinked, as if just remembering where he was. Then his face lit up, his body jumping quickly as his hands flew to his pockets. The mask he produced from them seemed to be of a standard shape and size; it was the design that caught you off guard. Golden circles covered the black frame, which was neither dulled or frayed but a healthy, vibrant shade. It was the same mask that the Doctor wore in the next room.

“Do you like it?” He asked coyly. Before he could cover up his features with the mask, you put a hand on his wrist, eyes scanning over his face. There wasn’t a lot of similarity, but you knew that regeneration was a lottery. Having met up with the Doctor’s 10th incarnation far too many times to count, you were well acquainted with the Doctor and their species’ habit for changing their face. He glanced over to your hand on his wrist and swiftly removed your iron grip. In an even quicker moment, he pulled your mask from where it rested and replaced it with his own.

Before you could process the change, your stolen mask was on his face.

“There! Since you liked mine so much. Now it’s yours.”

You tried to speak, but could only manage a sputter for several seconds until the shock released its hand from your vocal cords and you gasped: “Doctor?”

That threw him off guard. He slipped the mask upwards so it rested against his ginger curls, eyes narrowing. “How do you know that name?” He murmured.

“So you are the Doctor.” You said incredulously. “I’ve no idea which one but-”

“How do you know that I’m the Doctor?” He replied, tone turning sour with seriousness. Then he backed off a little. “Have we met before? You must understand, I have a habit of, well, forgetting myself. And everything else.”

“I travel with you!” You clarified, starting to get excited at the prospect of meeting a new (or, to put it chronologically, old, depending on where he was in the Doctor's life) incarnation of the Doctor. Realizing that your words might’ve been a mistake, you covered your mouth with a small squeak. From behind your hand, you worriedly asked: “Was I not supposed to tell you that?”

The new Doctor laughed. “I’m sure it’s no trouble. Luckily for you, I also happen to have the habit of running into my past and future selves, friends included!” The joy lacing his words put you at ease and you lowered your hand from it’s muzzle position only to have it captured by him immediately.

“Come,” He said, tugging you along as more people began to arrive at the snack table. “I want to meet you, properly!”

When the new Doctor mentioned that he wanted to meet you properly, you had no idea that dancing was his intention. But, soon enough, you found yourself ensconced in the commotion once again. Completely oblivious to the organized dance that was sweeping through the room, The new Doctor raised your entwined hands in the formation of a waltz, his other hand resting in a respectful position on the middle of your back. It’s warmth, so similar to your own Doctors, seeped through the fabric and created goosebumps along your arms.

“So, which one are you?” You asked, voice rising above the violins and cellos.

“Incarnations, you mean? I’m currently in my 8th body. I assume you travel with my 9th?”

“13th, actually,”

The 8th Doctor paused, looking confused for a moment. His lapse in movement caused him to bump into another partygoer, which jostled him back into the dance. “Ah, wearing a bit thin, then…”

“How do you mean?” You asked, concerned at his comment.

“Not to worry,” He said with an enormous smile. “How about you? Where are you from?”

“Earth”

“When?”

“2020”

The 8th Doctor cringed. “I really must come up with better questions”

“I’ve got one,” Said a new but familiar voice. The Doctor, your Doctor, stood only a fraction of an inch away, hands on her hips. ‘8′ gave her a once over, then looked at you and acknowledged the recognition in your eyes.

“Ah, you must be my future self!” He said excitedly. “Wonderful”

“Yes, it is,” your Doctor said hurriedly. “We really should get going, shouldn’t we Y/N?”

“But we’re dancing,” you protested.

“Yes, they want to dance,” the other Doctor reinforced. “Surely there’s no… problem?” You frowned at the inclination in his voice, and so did your Doctor.

“Then they can dance. With me?” your Doctor asked. It sounded authoritative, but the lift of her tone at the end left a hint of worry behind.

“Well, sure-” Before you could finish your sentence, your hand left the 8th Doctors and landed on the shoulder of your Doctor, who began to spin you around the room and away from her past self.

“Where’d your mask go?” She asked, hands gripping your waist tightly.

“He swapped ours,” You replied, trying to keep your voice steady as your Doctor dipped you. The world stopped in that moment, the Doctor’s eyes moving over the gold design. You imagined it would be necessary to breathe soon, but you didn’t want to disrupt the air between the two of you. To keep you steady, the Doctor's hands moved to your upper back, making you shudder.

“Well, jokes on him,” She whispered, as if proving herself in some momentous feat. “Now we match”

When you were raised back into a standing position you found yourself wobbling a bit, still dizzy from the seconds you’d spent near horizontal, only able to focus on your Doctor's voice and presence. Thankfully, there was another presence there to keep you steady.

“You don’t mind if I borrow them for a moment, surely?” the Doctors 8th incarnation asked, arm slipping around your waist.

“I don’t mind,” You squeaked. As you were turned away, you got the feeling that your Doctor did mind. The song ended and another one began, sweeping you off your feet. Or perhaps that was the 8th Doctor himself, who was moving the two of you throughout the room; an impressive feat given your close proximity to the other occupants- and each other.

“I do mind, actually,” your Doctor said grumpily a few moments later, easily and swifting transitioning you from his arms back to hers. Her old incarnation looked stunned for a moment before you lost sight of him. Everything was beginning to blur together, and soon it was hard to tell whose arms you were actually in at any given moment.

“Getting a little bit territorial in your old age, are you?” The 8th Doctor snipped over your shoulder. You resisted the urge to add fuel to the fire growing between them, trying to keep your mind on the music and the dance. However, your mind was distracted and your feet refused to move as they should.

“Old age? You mean more mature, wise-”

“No, I mean territorial” Your Doctor shook her head, trying to guide the two of you away from her past self, only to find that the way was blocked by too many people.

“Or maybe I just remember your plate being a little full” She challenged. “How’s Grace? Charley? Fi-”

“Okay, enough!” You yelped, not exactly anxious to hear all the names involved in the Doctor’s romantic history. Slightly out of breath, and incredibly dizzy, you glanced around for an uninhabited corner of the room that you could take advantage of. You didn’t find one, but you did see, out of the corner of your eye, a man dumping something into the punch bowl that you had been standing at previously.

“See?” You heaved, trying to catch your breath and end their ego contest. “Weird, suspicious stuff. Adventure, right? Go fetch!”

Both of them looked at you with wide eyes. Luckily, you didn’t have to suppress laughter, as your lack of air intake was doing that for you well enough. They looked at each other next.

“This isn’t over,” your Doctor grumbled, as she started moving towards the suspicious activity. As the back of her and the other doctors' suits entered your vision, you thanked the Universe for a break. It wasn’t too welcoming, and you found that each Doctor took one of your hands into theirs and began to lead you along.

* * *

It was another 3 hours of challenging quips and hand holding before you finally managed to get the break you so desperately craved, leaning against the TARDIS’ exterior as the two Doctors spoke of the past, the future and the present. It was nice to see them finally getting along. The adventure had brought the two of them together quite nicely, reminding them that they were one and the same despite the bodies and years separating them. Their conversation wrapped up smoothly, with smiles. Then, it was your turn to say goodbye.

“I can’t hang on to the mask, I don’t think” You said sadly, slipping his mask from your face. “I think that if I did, it wouldn’t be in the wardrobe for my Doctor to find. It could conjure up another one, though… maybe?”

“Your Doctor,” The 8th Doctor murmured with a smile. “I like that sentiment.”

Your cheeks grew warmer as you placed the mask into his palm, gently closing his fingers around it. He had taken your mask off of his face, but didn’t hand it over.

“You don’t mind if I keep this one, do you? I’ll put in a good word with the TARDIS to bring it back to you.”

Not entirely grasping the time travel and not bothering to, you nodded, knowing that somehow it would all work out. You glanced over his shoulder to see your Doctor, watching the two of you not with a look of apprehension, but with comforted observation. The 8th Doctor matched your gaze, chuckling to himself. “I suppose I best return to my own travels and time. But, Y/N, make no mistake. I’m very much looking forward to our future.” At the end of his sentence, with his words still echoing through the air, he raised your entwined hands and pressed a delicate kiss to the back of yours, with a squeeze as a promise for another time- One that was steps away.

Clutching your hand to your chest, you watched him disappear into his TARDIS, which began to dematerialize moments later. There was a small ache, but it was soon remedied by your Doctor approaching, with a distant look in her eyes. Clearly, the memories and experiences of another lifetime were beginning to resurface.

“Do I get one from you, too?” You asked to cheer her up. She raised a brow and you held out your other hand, the one untouched. Your Doctor slowly bowed her head to place her lips against it, humming softly. After she was done, she turned it over to place another kiss on the inside of your wrist, against the place where your heart beat in a rapid succession.

“Still trying to one-up him?” You whispered, voice slightly wavering. Your Doctor smiled, unlocking the TARDIS.

“Something tells me I don’t need to. Our future, remember?” Your future, _together_. Seeing the universe, _together._ You followed her into the time machine, heart full and eager for more.


End file.
